


a walk in the woods

by ijemanja



Category: Rosemary and Thyme
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: What do gardeners do in winter? Ideally, go inside and have a nice cup of tea.





	a walk in the woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lextenou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/gifts).



"Isn't it lovely out here in the woods this time of year?" Laura said, her head turned to the window to admire the passing scenery.

Rosemary made a noise that she would, if asked, object to being labelled a harrumph, but was probably not far off.

"I mean, with the snow and all," Laura added.

"I assumed. Can't exactly miss it."

Rosemary was having enough trouble driving through it.

"It's really a bit of a treat, isn't it?" Laura went blithely on. Laura had been in a cheerful mood all day, unseasonably cheerful, in Rosemary's opinion. "To see the place like this. The still, silent woods. Fields blanketed in snow. Pearly grey sky above."

"Gloomy," Rosemary broke into Laura's rhapsodising.

Laura leaned forward to peer up at the sky. She didn't disagree with Rosemary's assessment. "All right, usually I'd prefer a bit of green in my landscapes, but I can appreciate a wintery wonderland as much as the next girl."

"Hmph," Rosemary said.

And on that note, quiet fell in the jeep once more, disturbed only by the laborious rumblings of the engine and Rosemary's muttered curses as she navigated this all-too-wintery wonderland.

*

She and Laura generally spent their time travelling through the warmer parts of the year and frankly that was an ideal system for all involved. Yet here they were, out on a job, when Rosemary would much rather be at home with her feet up in front of the fire.

No one wanted gardeners in the dead of winter, as a rule. But the estate committee had invited them to come up in mid-winter to consult on the planning stages of a large project that would carry on over some months. They wanted all of the initial ground work well under way before the spring planting began.

The estate itself was rather enormous, and today they had been driving about the place surveying the areas allocated for work - as best they could while dealing with the frozen, slushy roads and pathways.

"Damn this bloody weather," Rosemary said, hunched over the wheel.

"I like the snow. It's like a painting, or something out of Dickens."

"Oh yes, I can just picture the shivering orphans."

"It's atmospheric, is all I'm saying."

"Hmm. I suppose as long as we're in here, with the heat running."

This was, naturally, when the jeep broke down.

*

There had been nothing for it but to walk. They had at least planned for a day of trudging about in the cold for several hours and so, bundled in their parkas and sturdy boots, they weren't in terrible danger of freezing to death. It really only felt like it.

"It's only a mile back to the main house, I think. Less if we forged across country," Laura said.

"Let's not forge anything."

"Some pioneer, you."

"No, I'm a gardener, I know when to stay off the grass."

"Nice day for a walk in the woods, though," Laura said, and it was all Rosemary could do not to thump her.

*

They realised they had taken a wrong turn about the same time the snow started to fall more thickly around them.

Laura surveyed the area with her hands planted on her hips. "I could have sworn we were to take a right when we came off the trail back there. This is the main drive from the road, isn't it? It must be. Looks like the one we came in on yesterday."

"If it was -"

"We'd have reached either the house or the big gates out front by now. We'll have to turn and go all that way back. Oh, I'm sorry Rosemary. This was my fault, I led the way."

"If there's blame, it's for the shoddy workmanship gone into the jeep last time we had it in the shop. Or the meteorologist who failed to predict a blizzard today."

"I wouldn't really call this a blizzard."

"Well no, all right, not if we want to avoid tempting fate."

Laura chuckled. "Yes, all we'd need is a blizzard on top of everything else."

They continued trudging along, making their way back to where they assumed they'd made their wrong turn. All they could see in all directions were trees and snow.

And the snow fell steadily, ominously on.

*

At some point Rosemary realised the snowy world she was inhabiting was a very quiet one. It was almost silent, in fact, but for three distinct sounds - the crunching of fresh powder beneath their feet, her own slightly laboured breathing, and Laura, who was singing to herself.

Rosemary tried to ignore that and focus on what was important.

"Laura, that's the bloody jeep."

"Hm?"

"Up ahead."

"Well. That's not much use, is it? Not unless the pixies have come along and fixed the motor for us in the past hour."

"The past hour we've been wandering around the woods getting nowhere?"

"At least we aren't lost. Or at least we haven't lost the car. We definitely know where that is."

This time it was absolutely, without a doubt, a harrumph.

"Well, come on, then." Laura, apparently unable to resist the temptation any longer, headed off the road and into the trees.

"Where to now? A nice case of pneumonia and an early grave?" Rosemary said, as she followed.

"Well it's that, or what about the little hut we saw over that way, did you notice it? Groundskeeper's cottage or something, probably. There might be a phone. Or a groundskeeper, I suppose. Worth a try. Doesn't look like the snow is letting up, does it?"

"No. That would be altogether too helpful."

*

On their second attempt at abandoning their stranded jeep, this time making an adventurous foray through the wilds, Laura caught Rosemary glowering at her.

"What? Is my marching music bothering you?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Rosemary lied. "Is it actually doing you any good, with the marching?"

Laura shrugged. "Well, there's something bracing about singing while stomping about in the cold, isn't there? Besides, it's one of my favourites, and it is seasonal. Appropriate, I'd say."

"Merry gentlemen we are not."

"Speak for yourself. The merry part, at least."

"We're going to freeze to death in these woods."

"Are you sure about that," Laura said in an irritatingly sensible tone, "or are you just a bit hungry and tired."

"Oh, just sing your silly song."

"God rest ye, Rose-merry, and any gentlemen about, too. Let nothing you dismay. Something something, when we were gone astray. Eh?"

"Thank the blazes, there it is."

*

The small structure was closer to a shed than the rather cosy-seeming groundskeeper's cottage Laura tried to sell it as.

But they were gardeners, and to them a shed was as useful as anything, and welcome too when it boasted four entire walls and a roof.

Inside there was a jumbled assortment of tools and equipment, stored alongside a tiny kitchenette with a kettle and single burner hob. There was an ancient phone attached to the wall. There was no dial tone. Nor, they discovered when they tried the light switch, any power.

"I'm starting to think the fates are against us today," Laura said.

"Still merry?"

"Well. One of us should be."

The two of them poked around the small space. There wasn't much to uncover, but at this point the poking came naturally.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Rosemary said, when Laura started up humming again.

"We've been on worse trips. No one's died -"

"Yet."

"No one has shot at us."

"Yet."

"Oh, and just who would be shooting at us?" Laura asked.

Rosemary picked half-heartedly through a drawer filled mostly with old plant care information tags and an assortment of twist ties. She had a drawer just like this at home.

"Well?" Laura said.

Rosemary shut the drawer. "We could be mistaken for poachers."

"We'd be prosecuted, not shot."

"We could be mistaken for deer, then, by the poachers."

"Do you even get poachers any more? Do people still poach in civilised British society? Never booked a poacher myself when I was with the police. Do you think the hob works? Nothing else does, but it's gas."

"With our luck, the gas will come on, but the pilot light will be out."

"We'll be like that fellow in the library at the end of the world, with broken glasses."

"What?"

"Twilight Zone, wasn't it? He has all the time in the world to read, and he breaks his glasses. And the rest of the human race has died off so there's no one to fix his glasses or something. It's ironic."

"This bloody thing isn't catching, Laura. I'm going to cry."

"No, you're going to sit down over there and not gas us. You're a bit useless in the kitchen."

Rosemary grudgingly sat down.

Laura got the burner on, and the kettle rinsed out and filled and set to boil in no time.

Rosemary grudgingly admitted that her friend was a shining heroine of competence. And that probably she was just a bit tired and hungry and they weren't actually going to die of exposure or, failing that, for want of a cup of tea.

It was miraculous what could be accomplished with a cup of tea and an unearthed stash of victuals - in the form of a packet of chocolate hobnobs.

*

"Tidings of comfort and joy," Laura said with a satisfied smile, and Rosemary wasn't tempted to more than half a glare.

In fact she could practically feel her spirits lifting right along with the feeling returning to her chilled extremities.

"All right," she said. "Not the worst trip. But only because the biscuits tipped the balance."

"What if I told you I think that stack of pamphlets you're sitting on look like tourist guides to the estate? They might have a little map of the grounds. So people don't get lost wandering around."

"We have an actual map of the grounds, Laura. Back in the jeep."

"I know." Laura calmly sipped from her cup. "When did you remember it?"

"Just now."

"Oh, I remembered after the first attempt to walk to the house. But this place was closer and I was really hoping not to have to hike all the way back. I thought we'd just phone for someone to come and get us."

"Should we send up a smoke signal, then?"

"The snow's stopped, you know. It doesn't look too bad out there. Think we can find the car again?"

"Oh, maybe. It's not a bad day for a walk in the woods, I suppose. If you like that sort of thing."

"I do. With the right company."

"Yes. Makes all the difference." Rosemary smiled. She smacked her knees. "All right, ready to brave the elements?"

"Let's just have another, then we'll go."

"Another biscuit or another cup?"

"Yes."

*

Half an hour later when a groundskeeper showed up and failed to take them for poachers - not even of chocolate biscuits - Rosemary knew the tides of fate had truly turned in their favour.

They readily accepted the fellow's offer of a lift back to the house. Although, as they climbed in the back of his truck, Rosemary was very slightly edging on something near to regret that their woodsy adventure had drawn to such an inauspicious close. But only very slightly - she had a pressing need for a lavatory, for one thing.

"We'll be back out again tomorrow," Laura said. "Failing any more inclement weather."

"Yes. Still work to do."

"Have to recover the jeep if nothing else."

"Only next time, we'll bring the map with us."

Laura shrugged. "Or not."

Rosemary harrumphed, and Laura just smiled.


End file.
